


Interpretation

by rarepairsinmycup



Series: Light It Up [5]
Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: Families of Choice, Gen, Gen Work, Light Angst, Nonverbal Communication, Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2019-05-09 11:00:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14714771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rarepairsinmycup/pseuds/rarepairsinmycup
Summary: Elfman and Mira receive some assistance in interpreting Lucy's artwork.





	Interpretation

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I claim no ownership over 'Fairy Tail' nor am I profiting for this.

Lucy’s howling bubbles into sobbing and then dissolves into hiccups. Her hiccups become sniffles, and his wet shoulder her pillow. Elfman and Mira attempt and then quickly abandon their attempts to smile or wave away the annoyed, concerned, and sympathetic stares. 

“I’ve tried dealing with tantrums in public,” she sighs. “Breakfast didn’t deserve to be spoiled for everyone else.”

“I should’ve paid attention,” he admits. “I don’t blame either in their reactions. We better work on teaching her manners before we attempt another public breakfast.” 

”I need a minute,” she warns. “I need an unhurried bath and nap which does not end with poking.”

“I’ll take the couch this morning.” Elfman hums. “Lucy can take my bedroom.”

Mira brushes her arm against his with an exhausted grateful smile. “I promise to do the shopping soon.” 

Neither discusses her breakfast tantrum, medicine cost, or the necessary shopping any further. Mira tiptoes from her bath with raw red skin and plush robe. Again, he receives that exhausted grateful smile before she closes her bedroom door with a quiet click. 

Elfman gathers their forgotten dishes. Pre-Lucy he could and would leave them soaking in the warm dishwater. Now, he isn't sure whether she might attempt searching for soggy remains or worse, attempt eating the soap or drinking the water. He leaves them drying and uses the quiet morning to search for more post-Lucy threats. 

It seems everything is a danger now. Anything with warnings for the consumer not to swallow or smell are moved onto the highest shelves and pushed far, far back. Its bound to be a temporary solution though as soon as she discovers how to climb. He could and probably should have someone with more experience come check the house for dangers. but then again it is his duty as the man.

His day becomes a not-so-fun and not-so-manly game. He crawls, climbs, and even forces himself into uncomfortably tight spaces. He emerges dusty, sweaty, and with a new appreciation for his sister, one which he vocalizes as she rounds the corner. Her hair needs another brushing, her face is puffy and streaked with pillow lines, but she appears rested. 

“We should probably wake her up or she’ll be up all night,” she says. “I see you rearranged our apartment.”

“I almost got stuck,” he gasps. “Should I be sore? I shouldn’t be sore, right?”

Mira pats his arm sympathetically. “You’re going to feel far worse tomorrow. I am going to get Lucy up.” 

Waking her is not the challenge. Their challenge arrives once she realizes the apartment has been rearranged. Elfman plunges face first onto the now unoccupied couch and groans. 

“We’re doomed now,” he says. “We have to rearrange the apartment every single morning now. Does she know how to pick locks? I’ll bet she does.” 

Were he given the chance, Elfman would use her distraction and Mira’s good mood to snag a nap. His mounting hopes are squashed by an eager knocking and then the door opens. Natsu, gripping her easel from this morning, curses and tries turning sideways. Happy slips by him effortlessly with a smug smile. 

“Erza sends her apologies for this morning,” he says. “We invited her over, but she thought the guild would be a more neutral place to apologize for what happened, face-to-face. Reedus asked we bring her artwork here.”

Natsu drops it onto the couch arm with an undignified grunt. “I hauled this thing without any help. Does that get any reward?” 

“You can have a reward,” Elfman says. “You can have a snack but have to interpret her painting first.”

Natsu appears prepared to object but then plasters an excited grin on his face and motions for him to make room on the couch. Once settled he hauls the easel over and places it over their laps. A tall orange stick figure with long yellow hair and a beaming purple smile dominates the center. A similar one clings to its arm. They’re surrounded by faceless figures in varying heights and weights. Happy crouches on Natsu's shoulder, humming and nodding like the painting makes any sense. 

“We have visitors, Mira,” Elfman calls. “They’re willing to help us with Lucy in exchange for food.” 

Lucy glances towards him but instead chooses Natsu's knee. Mira perches on the arm of the couch by her brother and watches as Lucy re-examines her work. 

Natsu taps the smaller stick figure. “Who is this?” 

Lucy grins, thumping a hand against her chest, and then patting the stick figure. His finger slides onto the larger stick figure. Lucy coos and creates a makeshift cradle with her arms and rock them back and forth. When their expressions remain blank, she tilts her head and feigns sleep.

Happy curls his tail around Natsu's neck. “I got it. Is it your mother? Where did she go? Who are the other guys?” 

Lucy runs a hand over the multiple faceless figures and climbs onto the floor. Her expression becomes dour. Her chin raises as she puffs her chest out and begins stomping around the floor. Elfman, Happy, Natsu, and Mira exchange guesses among themselves, but grow more and more frustrated as her game continues without a solid answer until she reaches for her waist. 

Her expression becomes harsher as she draws a fake sword. Elfman and Natsu practically leap from the couch in excitement and attempt shouting their answer over each other.  
Mira shushes them and scoots forward on the couch arm. 

“It must be either a guard or soldier,” she says and taps the supposed mother figure. “Where did she go?”

Her harsh expression melts as she gives the possible mother figure a final pat. Lucy places her hand over its face and begins viciously scratching. Its smile becomes mutilated into a frightening maniacal grin. Its long hair receives a choppy cut. Her vicious scratching then moves onto the faceless figures. Everyone exchanges uncomfortable glances, but makes no attempts to stop her. 

Either satisfied or exhausted, she once more pats her chest and then the untouched stick figure. Elfman nods his reassurance: yes, you're alive and everything is fine. But her mother and those guards—soldiers? Does a ruined face mean dead? It could mean missing, but no one bothers looking for them anymore. What was an appropriate sign for dead? 

Mira frowns and nudges his arm. “Its still a very pretty painting. Is she lost like you were?” 

Elfman rises and motions for Mira to crouch on the floor. Elfman bends down and hoists her atop his shoulders. Once she balances, she repeats the question. “Is she lost like you were? Is she waiting for someone to find her?” 

Lucy blinks, covers their ruined faces, and runs a hand over them.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much, everyone, for being so patient! I genuinely appreciate it! I became swamped with last minute projects and finals, but am very much prepared for a long summer of writing.


End file.
